Harry Potter and the Author Who Can't Find A Title
by Rebecca Victoria Rushton
Summary: This is my version of the final installment of Harry Potter. It WILL develop an interesting plot later. Be pacient. Rated T for possible goriness. Cannon pairings.
1. The Wedding

Chapter I: The Wedding

Disclaimer: If Harry Potter had been my idea, then I'd be writing on Fiction Press, and still not getting paid.

Author's Note: Everything in italic parentheses (abc) is my comment. I know that this chapter is a sappy cannon shipper's delight, but I promise, next chapter will be less sappy. This isn't a just the ships story.

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Harry sat bolt upright in a delicate white chair, seated next to his best friends, Ron and Hermione. He glanced at them, Hermione, handkerchief in hand, ready for the ceremony, Ron holding her other hand softly, lovingly in his.

All of their eyes were set on Ginny and Gabrielle, who were walking down the aisle, royal purple slippers padding along the snow-white runner. Harry gazed affectionately at Ginny, her lavender dress trailing behind her, pooling at her feet between every step.

For a second, he thought he saw a smile play on her lips. He never would be sure, because at just that second Gabrielle moved in front of her, obscuring Harry's view.

The wedding march struck as the girls reached the alter. The ornately carved mahogany doors at the back of the church swung open to reveal Fleur Delacor in a floaty, white gown and Auntie Muriel's tiara that glittered like drops of springtime dew. The gown included every bow, ribbon and lace trim that could fit onto a wedding dress that could still be considered 'floaty' and not 'absurd'.

She seemed to fly down the aisle rather than walk, and arrived at the alter in mere seconds. Fleur failed to notice that her beauty had been insufficient to rip Harry's gaze, and thoughts, from the alter. And Ginny.

Fleur was not the only one failing to notice things. Harry also was. He failed to notice the ceremony until '…if anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace,' Fred and George stood, obviously meaning it as a joke. They sat down promptly, with a very rude look from Charlie. Harry saw the yearning in Ginny's eye to stand. He knew she would not as it would mean years of punishment from her mother, and many, many rude looks, just as Charlie had given Fred and George.

'…you may now kiss the bride,' was heard from the front of the chapel, and then a 'woo' and many dog-whistles from all around.

How Harry wished…his thoughts, however, were interrupted by an incredibly loud sniffling nose, which Harry immediately identified as Hermione as she blew her nose into a mind-bogglingly wet tissue.

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As the reception began, Harry found himself being a wallflower as everyone else was doing the Hippogriff on the dance floor. A part of him wondered how anyone could have so much fun just two short weeks after the death of Albus Dumbledore (_may he rest in peace_). A smaller section reminded him that Dumbledore wouldn't've wanted him to mope. His guilt quickly silenced the very small part in the back.

As the Hippogriff changed to a slow tune, he looked onto the dance floor to see Ron and Hermione whisper what he assumed to be sweet nothings into each other's ears. They were not whispering sweet nothings, and their conversation was as follows.

'What's wrong with Harry?' Hermione whispered as she found him along the wall, concern in her voice. 'Nothing, probably. Remember how he was when Sir…Snuffles died? Probably the same thing' Ron replied with an oiled ease, as if he had practiced many times in front of the mirror. (_He had_) 'Sounds like you've been practicing,' Hermione replied with mild amusement. 'Hey,' came the mock-offended voice of Ron. 'Anyway, might get him killed if he focuses on that instead of Voldy,' After saying this Hermione wished she could see Ron's face after hearing the pet name she had just called You-Know-Who.

But Harry didn't know that. He didn't feel particularly disgusted, or in the least perturbed about this. He felt jealous. Not of Ron and certainly not of Hermione, but of what they had. That trust. That love. He'd seen it before, in the Mirror of Erised. His parents had had it. He wanted it too.

His eyes shifted on the dance floor to the eyes that were following** him**. They were Ginny's. She was dancing with a guest whom he was not familiar with, and whom he figured to be some distant cousin of her aunt's uncle's. He felt a twang of guilt for breaking it off with Ginny. Then in streamed the envy and jealousy, like a monster building inside of him. His subconscious twisted his hands into fists. Harry hoped desperately that Ginny couldn't see him turning green.

After a moment, Harry realized that it was not his place to be jealous. They weren't a couple. Another minute passed and Harry decided that it was all the better if she danced with other boys. The less Voldemort suspected that they were together, which they weren't, the better. If they weren't a couple, Ginny couldn't be used as leverage again. She had almost died because she simply had been his best friend's sister. Think what Tom could do if they were dating.

Harry watched her dance song after song. She looked happy. The more she danced, the happier she got. He like that she was happy, but he could barley bear watching her dance with so many boys, none of them him. Rumba, waltz, Macarena, think-of-it-yourself-dance, electric slide, chicken dance, funky chicken, the twist, the mashed potato, one right after the other.

He knew it was for the best, but was the best good enough? And more to the point, was the best what he wanted?

Just as Harry was thinking that Ginny walked straight up to him. The makeshift DJ (_Just Fred, he and George aren't joined at the hip, y'know._) was announcing the last dance. 'This is the last dance, so you'd better dance with them now, or lose your chance. You know who you are' Fred said, adding a conspicuous wink at the back of the garden, meaning for everyone was think it was just for them.

After the announcement was over Ginny said something to Harry that she had planned and executed carefully, making sure what she said was true. She danced every song repeating one thing in her head. 'Well, you're the only one I've not danced with,' she said passively, as if she just happened to dance with everyone else. She succeeded in sounding put-off, as if she had been forced by Auntie Muriel or someone of the like to ask for a dance with The-Boy-Who-Lived. Her tone killed the last of Harry's hope of **ever** getting together with her.

'What of it?' Harry replied peevishly. 'I thought you'd dance with me,' answered she sheepishly, to Harry's not so suttle remark. 'Sure,' Harry replied, that being the only polite thing left to say.

They danced silently for what seemed an eternity. 'I really _did_ want to dance with you,' Ginerva said as her steps lightened, as if eggshells had appeared beneath her feet, and her life depended on keeping them whole. 'I wanted to dance with you too,' Harry whispered. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief and was treading on solid ground again. 'Good,' Ginny breathed into Harry's ear, standing on her tiptoes to do so. She settled her feet into the dewy ground and buried her face in Harry's warm neck, resuming the dance without sight.


	2. The Choices

Chapter II: The Choices

Disclaimer: I don't think I like tomatoes.

_Author's Note: Okay, so this chappie is fluffy, too. I promise, it won't be like this the whole story. Please review, everyone._

_Pupparoux: My first reviewer. I'm glad you like the fluff. Look! I updated. Your turn._

_ Lily 101: My second reviewer. Glad you liked it, and you may just get your wish.  
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Harry awoke the nest morning in the attic room that he currently shared with Ron. It was shared due to the lack of space. The lack of space was due to the abundance of guests. The abundance of guests was due to the fact that most people had been too drunken the previous night to disapperate or use the Floo.

He rolled groggily out of bed and looked on his non-existent nightstand for digital clock that wasn't there to find the time. Because the clock wasn't there he looked out of the window to find that it was broad daylight. He glanced over to Ron's bed to find him snoring softly.

Harry figured that it couldn't be that late an hour if Ron was still abed.

He peeked out of the door and down the flight of stars to the main floor of bedrooms. He found many doors to be open, assuring that their occupants had gone to breakfast.

Harry tiptoed down the stairs so as not to wake those still asleep. He crept down the next set of stair, which let to the kitchen, just as quietly.

Once he entered the kitchen he saw many dirty plates and dirty coffee cups to match. Mrs. Weasley was stood at the stove making sausage for the only person, save for Harry and herself, who was still present in the kitchen.

'Good morning, Harry,' Mrs. Weasley said as Harry took a seat at the table, turning to see who it was, just to make sure she hadn't mistaken the face in the stovetop mirror. 'Will it be sausage or pancakes?' Mrs. Weasley. 'Pancakes,' Harry replied with a nod.

''Ello, Hermione,' Harry said as he turned to face her.

'Are you going to return to Hogwarts?' Hermione asked abruptly. 'Probably not,' Harry replied uncomfortably.

'Why not?'

'I've got to find the Horcruxes,'

'Don't you think it would be easier if you graduated first? You know, so you would be on the same level as Voldemort,'

Mrs. Weasley cringed as Hermione said You-Know-Who's name. 'No. Easier isn't always right. I don't want him to get more power than he's got already,' Harry replied.

'Well, he's already gotten loads of power. Do you really think a bit extra could hurt?'

'Any extra would hurt,'

'Why are you so sure of that?'

'Because he's been harder to beat every time,'

'You said it yourself, easier isn't always better,'

Harry didn't reply to that. Hermione never got a reply. The rest breakfast was eaten in silence.

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Harry had a lot to think about that day. Was Hermione right? Should he go back to Hoggy-warty Hogwarts? He walked around in the Weasley garden wondering, hoping no one would find him in the overgrown grass and tangled vines that littered the garden.

Turns out that Ginny had misaimed a dung-bomb that had hit Mrs. Weasley's head instead of Ron. Her punishment was de-knomeing the garden, and had just misaimed a knome right into Harry's head.

'Sorry,' Ginny yelled from the other side of that garden. 'You might want to get that off before it bites you,' she added. She was a little late with that, as a cry came from Harry. 'Ouch! It bit me! Nasty bugger, isn't it?'

'Well, what did you expect? You de-knomed before, so I expected you know,' Ginny explained apologetically. 'So you aimed it at my head?' Harry replied sarcastically.

'I said sorry,'

'So you did,'

'Well, yes. That's what I just said,'

'Why the bloody hell did you do that!'

'Well, I figured we had a lot to sort out, and if I just talked to you, you'd just fun off. Sort of like Myrtle does,'

Harry, who felt rather offended by being compared to Moaning Myrtle, still felt inclined to reply. 'We have got a lot to sort out,'

After a few moments of Harry blinking uncomfortably and Ginny staring at Harry blinking uncomfortably, she decided to say something, because he obviously wasn't going to. 'Are we going to or not?' Ginny said, putting it rather bluntly.

'You know I don't want you to get killed because of me,' Harry said, hoping she would understand what he meant, but purposely leaving room for her to weasel out of it. 'Are you saying that you don't like me, in that way?' Ginny questioned. 'I know that I do. And you know that I do, but that is just why we can't,' Harry said, with all the guilt he could muster in his voice. 'You don't care a bit about Ron or Hermione, then, do you?'

'Of course I do. They're my best friends,'

Then why do you let them be your friends, and even come with you on your 'dangerous adventures'?'

'Because I don't care about them as much,'

'Tell me you love me, Harry. Even if you don't mean it,' Ginny whispered, as if afraid to speak.

'I love you, Ginny,' Harry whispered the words softly and slowly, as if saying them too loud or too fast could conjure You-Know-Who on the spot.

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_Author's Note again- So the disisions still aren't made. So what?_


	3. The Finalizations

Chapter III: The Finalization

**Disclaimer: If you swallow a whole packet of pop rocks, you will get a stomachache.**

_Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. The teachers decided that because ten days were off, they should double, sometimes triple, the work now. Lucky me. I am only doing this now because Pupparoux won't update the story until I do, I have tons of homework that I should be doing now. Don't forget to review. I will get angry if you don't._

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With the scent of sausage wafting upstairs, and the loud plodding of Ron rushing down stairs to get some, Harry woke. He was disoriented for a bit, wondering where he was. _At the Weasley's, that's right. Where else. I think I want some sausage._ Without another thought, Harry rose and began plodding along with everyone else who was rushing downstairs.

When he arrived downstairs Ron was piling far more sausage than is healthy onto his plate, Hermione was ready to surrender hers, and Ginny was watching hers carefully, to make sure Ron didn't try to snatch it. Harry pulled out a worn wooden chair, sat and fork-wrestled Ron for the last piece of sausage.

Hermione glared at Harry, knowing what his response would be to the question that Ron was about to ask. 'Sor Harry, er you going to Hogwarts this 'ear?' came the question from Ron though a mouthful of sausage. 'No,' Harry replied, staring intently his plate as to avoid Hermione's nasty gaze. 'Good. I didn't want to go, either, and this is the only way I'll ever get out of it,' Ron replied, not knowing of the lashing he would receive from Hermione later.

Silence. If looks could kill, Hermione might have been a little more careful with the one she was giving Ron. 'I'm coming,' came boldly from the mouth of Ginny, breaking the awkward silence, and making the conversation even odder. 'No, you aren't,' Ron and Hermione replied in unison. Harry found a point on the wall and focused on it, pretending this was an utter shock to him.

'You can't come Ginny. You'll die, you can't die,' Ron said, after choking down the reminisce of his sausage. 'You've got to finish school. If you don't, over half of your family won't've. It would give something for the purebloods to scoff at,' Came an angry threat from Hermione.

'The two who haven't finished school so far seem to be doing quite well,'

'They were lucky,'

'Who's to say I won't be?'

'Who's to say you will?'

'I asked first,'

'I say it, then,'

'And we all know how good you are at divination,'

Thoroughly chastised, Hermione submitted to the idea of the rest of the Weasleys not coming to Hogwarts.


	4. Leaving the Weasley's

Chapter IV: Leaving the Weasley's

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Come on. Please review. I'll stop updating if I don't get more.

**Disclaimer: The author is in no way responsible for any changes in view of the characters, the story line or theories in general. You cannot sue her for anything in this story because that would be mean. She is also not liable for fraudulent charges on her credit card, seeing as she hasn't got one. Nor is it her problem or concern if you find the chapters excessively short.**

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'Harry, finish your breakfast,' Mrs. Weasley said, almost scolding. 'It'll be the last good one you'll get in a long time, you being off chasing You-Know-Who and all. It may be the last good breakfast you'll ever get. You shouldn't go,'

'I've got to,' Harry said, choking down the rest of his cold oatmeal. 'Well, I can't believe I'm letting my children go. Don't want another one ending up like Percy, do we?' said Mrs. Weasley, casting her eyes down at his name. 'We'll be careful, mum,' Ginny commented, thoroughly enjoying her bacon. 'Not careful enough, after all, you are going,' Hermione mentioned, matter of factly. If looks could kill, Hermione would have been dead long ago. Fortunatly, they don't and she survived yet another from Harry. 'There isn't anything you can do to stop us Hermione. We're going,' Ron said firmly. 'Fine then. But it's suicide you know,' Hermione said, ending the discussion, letting her plate clatter into the sink before leaving.

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'Bye, Hermione!' Ron called, closing the gate and leaving for perhaps the last time, and walking incredibly slowly to show that he _was_ leaving, sort of like mothers leave from parks when their kids won't come. Hermione refused to answer, shutting the window of her second floor room in response. 'Nothing you can do. You can call her forever, but she's _never _going to come,' Harry told Ron. 'Can't hurt to try,'

_Author's Note, Part Deux: I'm just not feeling very inspired. It might be a while before the next installment._


	5. Godric's Hollow

Chapter Five: Godric's Hollow

_Author's Note: Okay, so I decided I wouldn't get anything done if I didn't set out a schedule, and would spend a bunch of time waiting for a muse or to be inspired. So, from now on, expect updates twice a week, unless I say otherwise, and **please** send me angry e-mails at multiple times a day if I fail to update twice a week._

**Disclaimer: Jo pwns. She pwns the rights to Harry Potter and just pwns in general.**

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The Weasley's car, which Mr. Weasley insisted on driving just to test it out, as he had just bought a new muggle car and wished to see how it worked, came to a silent halt in front of the ruins of a house. Ron began shaking the door, trying to make it open. Hermione watched this spectacle for a bit before telling him that you had to press the button and then push the handle out (_It was a SUV. I hope those existed in 1997). _Feeling somewhat humiliated, Ron did as he was told and then promptly stepped out of the vehicle to escape Harry's chuckling.

Ron didn't escape for long, as Harry soon followed suit and removed himself from the car, as did Hermione. 'I'll be taking this opportunity to leave. You can apperate back now that I know that the car works,' Arthur said once the trio had closed the doors. Arthur started up the car, and with that he was gone and they were alone.

Harry began walking to the ruins, as if in a trance. As he approached the ruins, details became clearer. Charred edges of walls, a burnt spot on the wood that was left in the floor and rubble lying around and broken china. The remains of a life that Harry could have had. Should have had. Instead he was an outsider. This life would never be his he would never have parents, never be normal.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' Hermione said, eyes cast down. 'You have nothing to be sorry for,' Harry replied. 'Over here!' Ron called. Finding that the kitchen had remained what it had been. Old rusted appliances and a dusty porcelain sink sat in the kitchen, a skillet was still on a burner that must have long ago run out of gas. It was all left as if it had been abandoned at a moment's notice, a metal chair lay on the floor, and a plate on the table with a thin residue of hardened maple syrup.

Harry ran his finger over the syrup, with a look of nostalgia in his eyes. He lifted a finger from the plate and saw that a red hair was stuck to it. With a sigh he replaced the red hair and left the kitchen. The living room was in complete ruins. There wasn't anything that could be distinguished, save for the fluff that powdered the room that could be distinguished as stuffer from the couch or chair, or whatever that large wooden thing was in the corner.

'It looks like nothing has changed since the day…everything is in it's right place. Surprising everything hasn't rotted or blown away in the last fifteen years,' Harry commented. 'As if someone had a spell on it,' he added dryly. 'Someone probably has,' Ron said, looking at Hermione, waiting for the exact spell to come from her mouth any second. 'I don't know,' Hermione said, sighing.

Author's Note, Part Deux: Short, still. But if I'm to update twice a week I can't waste all of my material. Plus, it'll give me time to find the Latin.


	6. Leaving the Hollow

Chapter VI: Leaving the Hollow 

_Author's Note: Just like I said, twice a week I think I put Hermione in the last chapter, forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be there. Pretend her name with Ginny's._

**Disclaimer: I only wish that I owned the rights to Harry Potter. I don't own the theory, either. It was thought up by Superwizard624 on and I thought it was brilliant, and probable.**

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Staring at the wreckage, most of it unidentifiable, Harry pronounced 'I don't think that we'll find anything here, even if there was a spell on it,' Ginny agreed and bowed her head in submission to the idea of leaving. 'Where to now?' questioned Ron, who had hoped to find all of the answers at Godric's Hollow. 'I haven't got a clue,' Harry said. 'St. Mungo's. Something fishy was going on there,' Ginny pronounced.

'What?' questioned both Harry and Ron.

'The nurse, in the closed ward for permanent memory damage,'

'She seemed quite nice,' Ron said, thoroughly baffled.

'Were you even there?' Harry said, as baffled as Ron.

'Hermione told me to tell you this if there wasn't anything at Godric's Hollow. Remember when Lockhart escaped from the closed ward? She was lying about how he got out. She said that he got out while she was handing out presents and must have missed him. There is no way she could have missed him. He was the only one she had to give a present to. Only five people are in the closed ward: the Longbottoms, Lockhart, Bode and Agnes. Agnes and Bode received their presents _after_ she returned with Lockhart, and the Longbottoms had their family bring their presents to them personally. Lockhart was the only one she had to deliver presents to. Surprising that she missed Lockhart slipping away _while_ she was handing presents to him,' Ginny said, taking only two breaths the whole time, one after 'missed him' and one after all of the names.

'St. Mungo's it is,' Ron said, aghast.


End file.
